Finding Antionetta
by ehlnofex
Summary: Marcurio reflects on his journeys with his lifetime love, Antionetta, the Dragonborn herself. He starts to miss her old adventuring self. Now she is a remnant of herself, mentally lost and sad. He tries to reignite her spark, and reignite their love. Shiittyy summary, good story, read&review please!
1. Chapter 1

Antionetta is the love of my life. No doubt about that. Five years after Alduin was brought to his extremely overdue death, we still fall asleep in each others arms. I'll still walk out onto our porch and see her beautiful honey-colored hair shimmer in the sun that fought through the clouds above our home in Hjaalmarch. She'll turn at the sound of my footsteps and address me as Marc with her brilliant smile. Once I get close I'll plant a kiss upon her blushing cheeks and rest my hands on her small waist where they fit so perfectly. How I love her small Breton body. One of my fondest memories of us together was a stormy night when we first moved into Honeyside, way back in 4E 201. Due to the shoddy conditions our poor little home was being sacked by the harsh winds and heavy rain. Annie pressed right up against me and curled up like an alarmed small creature. Together we fit perfectly, like a lock in a key. With every breath, I felt each valley and swell of her body press against my bare skin.

Antionetta has the largest heart. Half of her nightmares are about the Falmer. To me, I fear Falmer. Their denatured stature, sightless eyes, sharp teeth, and bloodthirsty dispositions send me reeling. Annie, on the other hand, pities the Falmer. "They were betrayed, Marcurio!" She will cry out, "Promised a shelter, safety from the Nords, and turned into slaves." My thumb would find its way across her cheek to catch her tears. "They were brilliant Marc. Brilliant." Holding her face and looking into her golden eyes that used to hold such fire.

That's what breaks my heart the most. Her beautiful brown eyes that shimmered and gleamed. They matched her hair perfectly. I loved her wholly. My hands could get lost in her soft hair that rested at her shoulder bones. How she tempted me with her softness, her sweet scent and glistening eyes that seemed to flow with molten gold. They sparkled and intensified when the adrenaline ran through her body.

But now they sit dull. A medium brown, the color of clay, seems totally flat and lacking in life compared to her old self with the bubbling gold. They stare blankly into her own beyond and never seem to connect with mine. And that's what I miss the most.

I lost my Annie.

* * *

The subtle murmur of voices had picked up in the Bee and Barb as more hard workers from Riften turned in for a sweet drink after a long day of labor. I leaned casually against the wooden wall and let out a sigh. The cold, half-empty bottle of mead in my hand had started to perspire and make my hands wet. I had been sitting here a while, waiting for anything with a heartbeat to hire me. My coin purse was lighter than I'd like and Keevara was getting more strict with my board payments. I placed the mead bottle on the bench next to another empty bottle I finished off a while ago and stood up as a wave of dizziness poured over me. I stumbled forward and bumped into a small creature, a Breton lady with a hunting bow strapped across her body.

"Excuse me." I spoke, sounding like I was asking a question.

This is when I realized I had two sides of me, Marcurio, and Drunken Marcurio. Drunken Marcurio was stupid, bashful, overly-confident, and a complete ass.

She stared at me with squinted golden eyes. "You're excused." She spoke, her voice like chimes. Drunken Marcurio quickly reached out and grabbed her bony shoulder, exposed due to the scaled armor she sported. Her skin was exceptionally cold and seemed somewhat dry.

"Listen here," I burped, "You see a stunning Imperial like myself in your way, _you move_." Her small hand brushed mine off of her shoulder and she stepped back. Intensity burned in her eyes and she reeled her fist back. Blackness over came me as her fist collided with my temple.

•••

When I wake, the same old ceiling stares back at me on the second floor of the Bee and Barb. My head is reeling with a hangover. As I try to get up, the room spins and my mind reels. Memories fog my mind as I try to recall facts from the night before. A pretty Breton girl, with short blonde hair, fiery golden eyes, and a strong fist. Huh. Soft footfalls echo in the hallway my room is adjoined to. Peeking out of my bedroom door, I see her. Blue robes hang awkwardly on her body, barely brushing the tips of her bare toes. No shoes. Odd. She descends down the stairs and into the tavern.

Quickly I spring from my room and tip-toe into hers. She's incredibly messy, her armor laid all upon the floor in a heap, notes and coins littering the nightstand. How long has she been here? Something about a few of her notes caught my eyes. They weren't scribbled like the others, but printed, like a book. I picked them up and read the pages. Together, they read:

_"Lastly, we come to the question of the true meaning of being Dragonborn. The connection with dragons is so obvious that it has almost been forgotten - in these days when dragons are a distant memory, we forget that in the early days being Dragonborn meant having "the dragon blood". Some scholars believe that was meant quite literally, although the exact significance is not known. The Nords tell tales of Dragonborn heroes who were great dragonslayers, able to steal the power of the dragons they killed. Indeed, it is well known that the Akaviri sought out and killed many dragons during their invasion, and there is some evidence that this continued after they became Reman Cyrodiil's Dragonguard (again, the connection to dragons) - the direct predecessor to the Blades of today"_

Obviously from the Book of the Dragonborn. I was quite well-read, if I do say so myself. But why was this simple traveler carrying such text? I turned to leave, but a small luring figure was blocking the doorway. My breath caught in my throat.

"What are you doing in here?!" She shouted, taking another step inward. I took by bearings and stepped back. My mouth opened and closed, struggling to find words. What _was_ I doing in here? Snooping? I'm such an ass. Something bright caught my eye. In the palm of her hand flickered a soft flame.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." I put my hands out protectively. "No need to get violent." Her lip curled and the flame grew. Suddenly interested, "Is that a Fireball, or plain old Flames?" She stood up a little straighter and her flame shrunk.

"It's, it's just Flames." She said quietly. "I haven't really gotten a good grip on Fireball."

I sprung at my opportunity. "If I can help you master Fireball," she raised her eyebrow at this, "and, and! and Ice Spike, can we just forget about this and last night?" She tilted her head slightly and considered my offer.

"I had already forgotten about last night," she said as she stepped forward and snatched the papers out of my hand, "but, deal."

I smiled and sighed a sigh of relief. I held out my hand, "Marcurio."

She took mine in her small hand. "Antionetta."

•••

We headed out north of Riften, into the forest in search of Frostbite Spiders to practice on. It was a really unusually cold day in the Rift and snow was falling. The cool brisk winds of the Rift were flying by, sending vigorous shivers down Antionetta's back. I may not be a Nord, but at least I was slightly tolerant of the cold. Antionetta, on the other hand, was sent into shivers by the smallest of breezes. She produced a flame in her hands that rose to in front of her face. She closed her eyes blissfully as the flame warmed her skin. I noticed her lips were a light shade of blue. Poor soul.

"Hey," I said quietly, and her eyes flew open. "Don't waste your magicka." The flame diminished to nothing and a quiver shook her body. I paced towards a tree, turned away from her, and began to create a Fireball. "Alright, pay attention. Using Fireball is just like Flames except you have to learn how to condense and hold on to it until you are ready to let it go in a, well, ball of fire." I sent a burning ball of flames towards a tree. When it hit the bark it exploded and the whole tree caught aflame. Quickly using an icy tome I extinguished the fire before it could spread. "See?" I turned to Antionetta, only to see her sitting on the ground, her body curled around her hands that were holding a flickering flame. "Mara, give me strength." I mumbled.

I paced over to where she sat and scooped her up into my arms. Suprisingly, she did not fight me. Instead she curled up against me and I held her small body as she convulsed due to the cold. Suddenly I pitied the girl, and held her closer as I carried her to the gate of Riften. A guard quickly opened it for me and spoke quietly, "Take care of her, she's the Dragonborn."

I stopped in my tracks and turned to him. "What?"

"She's the Dragonborn. She traveled her yesterday from Whiterun. A Whiterun guard followed her all the way here, just to make sure she was okay, and he let us know." I stood silently as the guard looked closer at Antionetta. "Warm her up. Don't want her getting sick, now do we?"

No, we don't. Wouldn't want to be responsible for the death of the Dragonborn. I didn't reply to the guard as I hastily made my way to the Bee and Barb and laid her down in her bed upstairs. Looking upon the Dragonborn, I suddenly realized I shouldn't have much to do with her. I don't want her blood on my hands, or her trust. Quietly I creeped out of her room as her eyes fluttered shut.

I would be leaving for Windhelm immediately.


	2. Chapter 2

**So I added a balcony to Ulfric's room. BTW I changed the last chapter, at the end I said Marcurio was leaving for Winterhold, buuut I meant Windhelm. Interasante. Enjoy :3 Sorry this took so damn long :( i hope to update at least once a week after this. and I hope to post Marcurio's back story ASA**

* * *

Night had fallen over Windhelm and most citizens had abandoned the Hall or the Cornerclub and returned to their homes scattered across the ancient city. But Ulfric and I had settled on the upper balcony connected to his chambers. The sky was dark blue and speckled with stars that reflected beautifully on the waters of the river that empties into the Sea of Ghosts. Too bad I couldn't share this with Antionetta, she was already fast asleep in our room in the Palace of Kings. Our two beautiful daughters, Runa and Sofie, had turned in a while ago. Sofie sooner that Runa, considering that Sofie had bad memories planted in Windhelm. It was where we first found the poor thing and took her in.

Ulfric cracked open another bottle of mead and poured it into my eagerly awaiting tankard. "Thanks." I mumbled and grabbed the handle. The mead had warmed my insides and lifted my dampened spirits. Today was not a good day for my Annie. Windhelm brought a bucketful of memories for her, and she was stressed all day. Calming her wasn't my favorite thing to do, but I would do anything to see her okay.

"So she hasn't gotten better?" Ulfric's low voice grumbled the question I hated answering. Of course she hadn't gotten better. Not terribly worse, but not any better, not by any means. Every day I started to believe that she was just becoming a bag of bones.

"No." I said grimly. Ulfric shook his head and took a sip of his mead.

"She doesn't seem like herself anymore. Distant. At dinner, it looked like she was staring at me but her eyes were just blank." Those words cut right through me. Because it was so incredibly true. I could have strongly agreed, but instead I just nodded. For a little while longer, we just sat and chatted. Nothing in particular crossed our conversation, we were just shooting the shit. Eventually our conversation dwindled out and we just sat in silence.

A slight snort escaped Ulfric's mouth. "To think that the first time I met Antionetta she threw a knife at my head." I laughed in memory of that. It was a genuine laugh, I can still see Antionetta snarling before attacking the Jarl. "Hey I loved her first, you know." Ulfric stated.

* * *

I personally hated Windhelm. The stone was old and its weather-beaten look was plain depressing. The Nords were just as harsh as the weather and there was no such thing as comfort. Regardless, I decided to lay up here for a while. I couldn't see why the Dragonborn would come here. There was nothing for her.

So Candlehearth Hall became my home. Elda let me rent out a room for a whole month for a discounted price. Although, she didn't seem to excited about it. "I don't trust you wizards." she mumbled, "you can do unnatural things.." Not to distress the Innkeeper further, I changed into some plain clothes once I was settled in my room. I spent my days relaxing in the great room, eating and sipping mead.

Calixto, a peculiar man who ran a "curiosities" museum of some sort here in town, sat down heavily on a bar stool in front of Elda's bar where she was slowly wiping down the counter for the umpteenth time today. Calixto requested something strong and Elda quickly complied. The bottle opened with a satisfying crack and he guzzled down a good amount before placing the bottle down with a sigh.

A small, nervous cough escaped Elda's mouth and grabbed Calixto's attention. "Calixto," she started hesitantly, "Do you know if there's any truth to the rumors of dragons?"

Calixto released a long, slow sigh. "Eh. I try not to trouble myself with stories of the outside world." He pondered her question for a moment. "Now if someone brings me a dragon scale, that's a different story."

Elda tucked the rag she had been using under the bar and leaned forward on her elbows. "But how would you know it's real?"

Calixto let out a hardy laugh, "Ah, I can't reveal all my secrets to you. But rest assured, I would know." Elda leaned back, unsatisfied.

I had heard rumors about dragons, too, in fact I met the Dragonborn. Of course, the only way to determine that she was Dragonborn, would be to kill a dragon and absorb its soul. See I am well-versed in all things Nord. I would only disclose this information with myself, of course. Ah, who am I kidding. "I know the Dragonborn." I stood up and joined the two at the bar. Elda gawked at me, but Calixto was first to speak up.

"Horseshit." He said in his gravely voice, "What'd you do, see him slay a dragon?"

"Her," I quickly corrected, "Her. She's a girl." Calixto let out a bellowing laugh and threw his head back. I thought he would fall off the bar stool, but unfortunately he did not.

"Next you're gonna tell me she's an elf!" Calixto wiped away a few tears as he clutched his stomach.

"Nope. She's a Breton." Calixto stared at me for a moment then began howling like a wolf. Even Elda giggled quietly. But their laughing was cut short as the front door to the Hall flew open and there stood a Dunmer woman, heavily breathing. Silence fell over the entire hall, even the reveling in the great room was hushed.

"All able-bodied men and women," she stopped and caught her breath for a moment, "you're needed immediately. The city is under attack."

A voice that I wasn't able to identify called out, "The Imperials? We can take those bastards!" A hardy battle cry from many of the inhabitants responded proudly.

"No, no!" The Dunmer quickly hushed the crowd. "There's a dragon." A serious quiet fell over the hall as disbelief set in.

"Ahhh horseshit!" Called out the same voice. Just as the words left his mouth, a terrible screech echoed through out the atmosphere, and a brilliant orange light flooded behind the Dunmer. An agreeable melody of swords being drawn and axes being taken from their back holsters reverberated in the hall.

"_Agggghhhhhhhhhhh_!"

•••

There she was again, panting and sweaty, hair matted and kneeling before the skeleton remains of the beast. Just a moment ago half of Windhelm watched her mount the dragon's head and smash it's skull with a mace she picked up from a corpse. Once the dragon fell, it was overcome by flames that sent most spectators towards the walls of the ancient city, but not Antionetta. She trudged right up to the burning dragon and placed her small, charred hand right on his demolished skull. Then came the light. It was terribly blinding but beautiful. It arched upward then buried itself in the core of the small Breton standing bravely before the dragon. For a moment, she was full of life eyes burning golden and skin radiating. But once the light all gathered in her, she fell to her knees and became the tired heap she was now.

Instinctively, I ran to her side and placed a protective arm around her. She looked up at me, and I was startled by her pupils that were so minute that it looked like she didn't have any. Just golden orbs. Antoinetta sunk into me, breathing heavily. I asked her quietly if she was okay and she nodded slightly.

"Help me up." She demanded and I complied. She rose slowly, but seemed pretty steady once she was up.

A cough caught our attention, and I turned to notice the steward standing awkwardly, fiddling his hands. "The Jarl would like to see, uh, you." He hesitated for a moment and coughed again, "Dragonborn." A sudden hush fell over the crowd

I pushed Annie slightly. She took one hesitant step and continued towards the Jorleif. After a few steps she turned to me and waved me forward. I caught up. When Jorleif pushed open the massive brass doors a warm rush embraced us and Antoinetta lifted her shoulders and took a deep, fulfilling breath. Our steps echoed in the grand palace. The long table was covered in decadent, untouched food. From the ceiling hung cerulean and golden banners that must have sat stolid until we entered through the door. A big gush sent them flying and fluttering fighting their bonds. When the door slammed behind us, closing us off from the chaos outside, the banners gently floated back to their still position, as if scolded by the slam.

Jorleif rushed in front of us and lead us to the pompous man who was lounging lazily, unaware (or pretending to be unaware) of the destruction that had just taken place in his city. He looked up at the two of us, indifferently and bored.

Jorleif cleared his throat again and Ulfric's gaze slowly shifted to him. "The Dragonborn, sir." Ulfric's eyes flicked to me and his head slowly followed.

"Oh, no." I laughed. "I know I would make a spectacular Dragonborn. But I'm not. She, Antoinetta, is the Dragonborn." His bored disposition melted and his grey eyes filled with shock

"What?!" Ulfric stood up abruptly, and both me and Antionetta backed up. "She's not a man, but she's not even a Nord?" He walked up to her and looked down at her with burning intensity. When I say he looked down, he really looked down. He must have had three heads on her. His brusque hands grabbed her chin and pulled her face up. "Ugh. Elfish blood." Antionetta quickly jerked away and smacked his hand.

"Don't touch me you lumbering bear." She growled through her teeth. The two stood toe to toe, willing the other to drop dead, simply through their eyes. Both breathed heavily, like two cave bears about to take part in a fight. Jorleif reached forward and grabbed Ulfric's burly arm.

"Calm down, sir." Ulfric turned quickly to his steward to hear what he could possibly say to rationalize this, "You don't want to upset the Dragonborn. She has ten times the power you ever will. Regardless of her sex or race."

Ulfric huffed and sat down again. Antionetta's hand reached out and grasped mine tightly. She looked at me with either fear or pride in her eyes. After a few moments of silence, the Jarl cleared his throat.

"Dragonborn I want you out of my city." Antoinetta released my hand and immediately began to protest, but was cut off by is loud voice. "Where you go, dragons follow. My city is not prepared for you." Antoinetta was steaming, but I knew she understood that she could not argue these terms. I saw her face as she looked upon the corpses.

Antoinetta turned to leave and I followed suit. While we were walking away, in the quiet, Ulfric laughed quietly and mumbled, "I'm not too crazy that your ancestors were Elf Molesters either."

The dagger that was sitting plainly on the dining room table was suddenly lodged in the throne, very close to Ulfric Stormcloak's head. He sat shocked, speechless. I was pretty impressed, Jorleif was fuming, and Antoinetta stood with a smug smile and began walking out again.

"Guards." Ulfric said plainly. Three guards rushed towards Antoinetta and immediately thrust her arms behind her back.

"Let her go!" I shouted and lunged for her. My arms were gripped suddenly and pulled behind my back, more than they are supposed to. In agony, I fell to my knees. Well, I'm sure a night or two in the Windhelm jail can't hurt.


End file.
